Same Old
by christmasinacup
Summary: Set after "I Want To Believe." Scully can't stay in this same routine anymore. She can't. But she can't bear to lose him either.


If you don't think The Civil Wars wrote the song 'Same Old Same Old' after watching IWTB, you're delusional. Lil' bit of angst for y'all. Enjoy & review!

* * *

She had never wanted to throw something against a wall and smash it into a million pieces like she did tonight. She was angry, almost to the point of irrationality. She had been angry with Mulder before, but not like this. Not angry at him for believing.

"Mulder, you need to wake up." She said it harshly, but tried not to raise her voice.

"I have woken up, Scully," he said, riffling through the papers on his desk. Shit. She hated that he looked like a tinfoil hat-wearing moron when he did that. She hated herself for even thinking that.

"It's all here, I've been missing it all along. You were the one who told me that we had to keep fighting _them_ if we wanted to win. You ran with me because you believed me. Why are you fighting with me? They win when we are divided."

"Mulder, I don't want to fight with you, but I will if I have to," Scully said, rubbing her temples. She hated herself for the poisonous thoughts in her mind and the words on the tip of her tongue.

"What's changed?," he asked, looking just as sad as he was confused. "Have you resented me the last few years?"

"No, Mulder, damn it," she said, leaning against the wall. "I love you, I do. I'm always going to love you. But if you think that I can stay in this same old… state, I won't. I don't want to."

He stood up, but didn't move any closer to her. She silently thanked him for that. It was hard enough to say these things without being able to look into his eyes. She knew she was hurting him, she didn't need to be reminded.

"This state?"

"This state of…," she paused. She knew that if she didn't use the exact right word, it was all over.

"This state of paranoia. Of fear and mania," she said. She bit her lip. Was mania the right term? He wasn't an idiot, far from it. She should have tried to leave his mental health out of it. But the two were so sickly twisted together that it was nearly impossible.

"Just say it, Scully. Say that I'm crazy," he said quietly. Her heart cracked and she wished she could take it all back.

"Mulder, I think that maybe you're…" She grasped for the right words. "You need to take a step back and think about what's real and what you want to believe could be real. The evidence, the facts. It's not healthy to live like this."

He laughed, but it wasn't a good laugh. It wasn't his amused chuckle, the one she loved so much. It was a mean laugh. It was a laugh of spite.

"You want to give up," he said, scratching his head. "You want me to give up on what I've been working on for years. My life's work, Scully."

"I want you to… take a break," she said slowly. "Because it hurts to see what this is doing to you."

"Then leave," he said sharply. "A break might as well mean I'm giving up. If I stop, they win. If that's what you want, get the hell out."

"I want to lose us," she admitted. "I want to leave, sometimes. But I won't."

He didn't appreciate this honestly like she hoped he would.

"Well, aren't you a saint. Saint Scully, patron saint of the lunatics. Thank you for telling me that you stay in spite of how unhappy you are with the choices I've made."

He pointed at his office door.

"Go."

She didn't hesitate. She needed to cry and she didn't want him to see her do so. She walked out of the office and down the hall, getting faster until she was practically running. She made it to the porch before she started to sob. Large, body-shaking sobs. She held the column of the porch to steady herself and lowered her body onto the stairs.

The noises coming from her mouth were awful. They were the cries she heard from mothers when their children died in their arms. They were sounds of loss, of heartache, of being truly broken. She sobbed and coughed and ached.

She loved him, oh she did. Like a house on fire. So much that sometimes just seeing his face made her feel like she would explode from how much she loved him. She did this too often to herself, it was almost masochistic. It was like she wanted the heartache. Why else would she bring this up? Why else would she call him out for all his flaws? It wasn't like she was perfect. He loved her, warts and all, and she couldn't even return that. She didn't deserve him.

Mulder deserved someone who wouldn't give up on him. She had tried so hard to be that person, especially since they had moved into this house, but she fell short too often. She didn't even know why she felt the need to be so stubborn anymore - why she had to put the FBI behind her and hold back. The days in the basement office had been some of the best of her life. The camaraderie between her and Mulder, feeling like someone unconditionally trusted and respected her for the first time in her life, besides her family. She got an adrenaline rush every time they got a break in a case or examined a particularly strange corpse. The science alone had been unprecedented. Working on some of those cases was the most excited about science she had been since grade school. Discovering something new, even if it was horrifying, like the new gene pairing in purity control, had given her the same rush as when she had looked into her first microscope.

 _You're better with him, Dana,_ she told herself. _He makes you a better person, a happier one. He got you out of your shell and changed your life and you owe him more than telling him to give up. The Mulder you fell in love with would never give up._

She stood up and composed herself. She didn't know what she was going to say, but she knew if she didn't walk back in there, she was a fool.

Her hand had barely brushed the doorknob when the door swung open. She jumped back, startled. Mulder was standing in the doorway and the way his eyes lit up when he saw she hadn't left yet gave her hope. He seemed even taller than normal, his hands bigger and rougher, his stubble from the shaving he stopped doing after his brief return to the FBI looked darker and sexier.

"Mulder, I -"

"Wait," he said, taking her hand. He took it cautiously, almost afraid to touch her. She squeezed his hand, letting him know it was okay. "Can I say something?"

She nodded. He led them to the porch swing he had installed last year and they sat down, looking into each other's eyes. They had a much more similar eye level when sitting. He didn't tower over her as much.

"I'm sorry for being so hostile," he started. "The most important thing for you to understand is that I love you, Scully. No words will ever describe how much I love you, how much I need you. And having you in my life means so much more to me than any conspiracy. If they win and the world ends, I wouldn't care as long as you were in my arms. If I've ever made you feel like you come second, I'm so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Scully said, biting back tears. They crept into her eyes anyway, a lump rising in her throat. "I have never resented you, I never will, and it disgusts me to think I've ever given you the impression that I could. I feel like a monster for treating you the way I did earlier."

"Oh my god," Mulder said, stroking her cheek. "No. You're not a monster. You're right about my mental health, Scully. I often write off some of my more manic tendencies as passion, but I should know better. If I didn't have you, someone probably would have locked me up by now."

She choked a few tears back even thinking of Mulder in a psychiatric ward. It was a nightmare she'd had, more than once.

"I just want you to be okay," she whispered. "I want the Mulder I know and fell in love with to stay with me forever. Sometimes, I'm scared I might be losing you. I used to be able to tell difference between your manic states and when you really had a lead, but since that case a few months ago… I never know anymore. I'm so scared that I'll come home and you'll be gone."

She started crying again and he pulled her into his arms. She felt his chest quake and knew he was crying too.

"I don't want our story to end like that," he whispered. "I'll take a step back if you want."

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "What do you want, Mulder?"

"I want you," he said softly. "Miles and piles of you, pure and unfiltered and beside me every morning and night. I want us to be healthy and safe. Maybe get a dog."

She cracked a smile at that last part.

"I do miss having a dog," she said thoughtfully. She paused. "And I miss you."

They slept beside each other every night, but Mulder knew what she meant. He pulled her to his side and her head drooped onto his shoulder. He rubbed her back slowly, feeling her breathing steady.

"I love you," he said, kissing her hair.

"I love you too," she murmured, closing her eyes and relaxing deeper into him. "We'll get through this."

He wanted to badly to believe it. He nodded, even though she couldn't see it.

"Yeah, we will."


End file.
